


221Bebop: Honky Tonk Women

by Wreck



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Space, Bounty Hunters, Community: trope_bingo, Cowboy Bebop Universe, Crossover, Implied Relationships, Implied Slash, M/M, Trope Bingo Round 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 14:09:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wreck/pseuds/Wreck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew of the 221Bebop get an interesting proposition from a con artist they've caught.</p><p>“We have a system, John, and it works,” Sherlock said slowly, like he was explaining something complicated to a child. “You and I track criminals, turn them in, and collect the money.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	221Bebop: Honky Tonk Women

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fusion with the world set up in Cowboy Bebop, but you don't need to know anything about that show to understand this except that their currency is in Woolongs. Everything else should be self explanatory. 
> 
> This was quick and dirty and totally unbeta'd. Let me know if you see any errors.

“No. Nope. Not happening. Don’t even try to convince me,” Sherlock said, laying on the couch with an arm thrown over his eyes, and a cigarette burnt nearly down to the filter balanced in his lips. 

“I didn’t even ask you anything yet,” John said with a sigh.

“But you’re going to. I can tell by the way you’re shifting your weight.”

John rubbed the bridge of his nose and sat down in the chair across from Sherlock, kicking his cybernetic leg up on the coffee table, or the table that would be a coffee table if they had any coffee. Or tea. Or food. 

“Fine, yes. I was going to ask you to at least think about it,” John admitted finally. 

Sherlock sat up in a flash, snubbing out his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray next to John’s boot. 

“We have a system, John, and it works,” Sherlock said slowly, like he was explaining something complicated to a child. “You and I track criminals, turn them in, and collect the money.”

“And that’s been working wonderfully recently, has it?” John snapped. 

“We’ve hit a bit of a dry spell, I’ll give you that.”

“A dry spell?” John scoffed. “You may not need to eat as often as normal humans, Sherlock, but I haven't had a proper meal in weeks. Hell, I haven’t had a proper cuppa in months!”

“Whose fault is that? We had those tea smugglers and you lost the cargo!” 

“We are bounty hunters, Sherlock, not criminals ourselves.”

Sherlock snorted. 

“Besides, I knew that officer from my days in the ISSP,” John continued. “I wasn’t about to just acquire the cargo right under his nose.”

“Boring,” Sherlock yawned and flopped back onto the couch.

A crash echoed up from the cargo hold. 

“We have talk about this,” John insisted, gesturing at the door with his hand. “We have to do something with her.”

Another crash followed his words and Sherlock glared towards the door. 

“She’s already disturbing the peace. And how will having three mouths to feed be easier than two?”

They were glaring at each other when a smooth voice called from the doorway, “Oh, I think we can figure out a way to make it work.”

Sherlock and John looked up to find the tall, slender figure of their scantily clad prisoner leaning against the wall and spinning her handcuffs on one long finger. 

“See, John. Women are always trouble. I won’t have one on this ship!”

“Oh, that’s nice. I have a name, you know.”

“Not interested,” Sherlock said.

“It’s Irene,” she continued, ignoring Sherlock’s interruption. “Irene Adler. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I’m sure. Especially now that I’m no longer cuffed in your cargo hold.”

“Don’t take it personally, that’s how we treat all of our guests.”

“Sherlock!” John cried. “She’s a lady.”

“She’s a con artist,” Sherlock reminded him. “And one with a pitifully low bounty on her head.”

“I agree,” Irene said. “It’s tragic how they undervalue me. In fact, I hardly think I’m worth your time or effort, so I should probably just get out of your hair.”

The second she stepped back towards the door, both Sherlock and John had their guns trained on her. John stood up and gestured back towards his chair with his gun. 

“Have a seat.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” she said, raising her hands in surrender, but rolling her eyes. She threw herself into the chair and busied herself with adjusting her garters. 

Sherlock looked pointedly at John, then at Irene, then back at John, raising his eyebrows.

“What?” John mouthed.

Sherlock looked back at Irene who was practically laying across the chair, one leg in the air as she straightened the line in her stockings. 

John cleared his throat. 

“That’s not gonna work here,” he said. 

She straighten herself out and winked at John before pulling a pack of cigarettes from her boot. 

“It was worth a shot,” she shrugged, lightening her cigarette. “So, listen. It’s not that I’m not enjoying my stay here, but I would like to, you know, skedattle if that’s ok.”

“Nice try,” John said. 

She scowled at him and blew her smoke out in a huff. 

“I say we just get her to the nearest station, collect our 800 Woolong bounty and be rid of her,” Sherlock said. 

“Ouch!” Irene exclaimed. “I knew my bounty was low, but 800 Woolongs? That’s insulting.”

“Look, lady, 800 Woolongs is still 800 Woolongs. And Woolongs is all we’re interested in, right now, thanks.”

John sighed, but Sherlock was right. This was the first bounty they had gotten in weeks, even if it wasn’t a huge payout. He looked at Irene, compelled to apologize for some reason, but found her watching them both with a huge grin. 

“What?” John asked. 

“If it’s Woolongs you’re after, I’d be willing to trade some information.”

“Again, not interested,” Sherlock said. 

“You haven’t even heard me out yet,” Irene pressed on. “Here’s the deal, you don’t turn me in, and I’ll tell you what I know on the biggest bounty you’ve ever heard of.”

Sherlock scoffed. “First of all, how do we know you’re not lying?”

“You don’t,” she admitted. 

“And how do we know that once we let you go, you won’t collect it yourself?” John asked. 

Irene rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think if I could, I would have done so already.”

“You’re a con artist,” Sherlock said. 

The three of them sat there, staring at each other in silence. 

“How big of a bounty,” John finally asked. 

“Bigger than you could possibly dream,” she said coolly.

“Try me.” 

“300 million Woolongs.”

“Bullshit.” Sherlock snapped. 

“Who is it for?”

“Uh, uh, uh,” Irene wagged a disapproving finger at them. “Do we have a deal? You let me go, I vanish, then you get the bad guy.”

“Yes, yes. Fine,” Sherlock growled, waving her on with his hand. 

Irene eyed them both carefully, then seemed to decide Sherlock was agreeing to her terms. 

“Does the name Moriarty ring any bells?” she asked. 

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed and he studied Irene intently.

John snatched the computer from the desk, pulled up the Big Shot database, and then spun the screen around to face the rest of the room. A young man with dark hair and a mischievous grin stared out of the screen. 

“Moriarty,” He read. “Red Dragon Crime Syndicate. 300 million Woolong bounty. Dead or Alive.”

“Yes, I know of him,” Sherlock said a moment later. “How is it that you have information on him?”

She reached into her bra, pulled out her phone, and waved it at him. 

“Let’s just say we had a falling out,” she said coyly. “And that I don’t care if he’s caught, like his flyer says, dead or alive.”

Sherlock leaned forward and steepled his fingers against his mouth.

“What else can you tell me?” he asked. 

“What else can you offer me?” Irene countered. 

“We’ll split it,” Sherlock said instantly. 

“Why should we do that?”

“Because it’s personal,” Sherlock said simply. “And John here wants to buy more tea.”

John dropped his head into his hands; Irene smirked. 

“Deal,” she said and reached out to shake Sherlock hand. 

John’s head snapped back up. “What?”

Irene leaned back and tossed her keys at John with a grin. “Here, you can park my ship.”

John gripped her keys and stalked out of the room shaking his head. “There is no way this is going to end well.”


End file.
